


Without the Weight of You

by bitterleafs



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Developing Relationship, Ghosts, M/M, Pining, jaydick-flashfic: ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27110071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterleafs/pseuds/bitterleafs
Summary: He wants to be friends with Jason, wantsmore—more than whatever they are now. Sitting in what he hopes is a companionable silence, Dick settles for taking whatever Jason's currently willing to give.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 35
Kudos: 219
Collections: Jaydick Flash Fanwork Challenge





	Without the Weight of You

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to [Win](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindTheRobinsMask/pseuds/BehindTheRobinsMask) for loving me and supporting me and looking this over before I posted!
> 
> Funeral Singers - Sylvan Esso Feat. Collections Of Colonies Of Bees

On a hazy summer night Dick flies across the skyline, searching the rooftops. He'd heard Jason had made a new home in a new city and figured he was overdue for a housewarming. When he spots a silhouette carved out in neon sitting at the edge of a roof, Dick smiles. 

He finally found him.

"Hey, Little Wing!" He greets cheerfully, noting how the younger man’s shoulders tense minutely at the greeting, so small it's only noticeable if you're looking for it. 

Dick swings his legs over the side of the roof next to Jason and watches how his face remains one of cool indifference, cigarette held up to his lips between two fingers. After a beat he finally rolls his shoulders, relaxing, and Dick's chest constricts at the subtle show of trust.

Jason exhales a plume of smoke along with a question, "And what brings you to my part of town?"

"Do I need a reason? Maybe I missed you."

"Business then."

"No, I just missed you." It's an easy admission to make, he _has_ missed Jason. 

Jason pretends he doesn’t hear it and Dick isn’t all that surprised.

It was softer—more honest—than he supposes he’s been with Jason in years. Not that he hasn’t wanted to be, but their relationship has been a study in tension with the shadow of the Bat looming over them. Maybe if he'd been honest sooner, things could have been different. 

Maybe things still could be different. 

He wants to be friends with Jason, wants _more_ —more than whatever they are now. Sitting in what he hopes is a companionable silence, Dick settles for taking whatever Jason's currently willing to give.

:::

It becomes a thing, an unspoken truce.

He seeks Jason out and Jason allows himself to be found. They talk, relearn who each other are, who they could be together. They fight sometimes still but it no longer ends in fists and the dredging up of old hurts. Dick is more honest now, Jason less guarded, and it makes all the difference.

It becomes a thing that grows between the cracks of their relationship, mending it into something brand new.

:::

As he crawls through the window of one of Jason's many safe-houses, Dick is greeted by sounds from the kitchen. He follows the noise and leans against the wall, watching Jason putter around. 

"You cook?"

Jason's head snaps up in surprise, tensing for a fight with a hostile look that turns to unrestrained annoyance once he finds who spoke. "Trying to give ol' Bats a run for his money, Dickface?" He moves to continue working before turning back to incredulously ask, "Wait, are you telling me you don't cook?"

"I mean, I know _how_. I just never have the time to," he replies with a shrug and a sheepish smile.

"Yeah well, not being a workaholic tends to save a little time for trivial things like cooking. I'm surprised you manage to find the time to harass me." 

Dick frowns, "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"What _are_ you doing?"

It's a dangerous question, pointed and sharp, Jason still looking for the strings attached to every interaction. A dangerous question that threatens to eviscerate Dick where he stands, spilling his feelings out and onto the floor. It's an opportunityand a risk.

This is the moment he could admit it. All Dick has to do is say it aloud.

_Falling in love with you._

Just a few words and this house of cards he's been building can either come crashing down or be built up higher still. Both feel equally devastating, if he's being honest with himself. 

And that's what he is now, right? Honest.

Dick plasters a smile on his face and says, "Just trying to spend more time with you."

It's not a lie. It's still honest—just not the truth. There _is_ such a thing as too honest, which Dick repeats in his head like a mantra. 

It does nothing to quell the rising tide of emotion within him.

"What do you want me to be doing?"

Jason looks at Dick appraisingly, "I want you to grab some plates out of the cupboard." The words are a stark contrast against the heaviness of his gaze but they break the tension of the moment all the same. 

_Why do you always do that!_ Dick wants to shout, _Why won't you just answer the question!_ But who is he to complain, when he'd just done it too? 

He searches for the plates instead.

They sit and eat together, trading idle chatter. It's a casual, warm, easy moment that feels like _home_. It's overwhelming to know that he could've either ruined this or gotten _more_ than this _,_ if only he had been honest.

Dick wonders what it would be like to sit with Jason like this everyday, to come back to him after patrol and just _be_. 

The loud clatter of a fork as it falls against a plate jars Dick out of daydreams and he looks down at it in surprise, feeling mildly betrayed. Picking up the traitorous fork, he glances apologetically across the table.

A strange expression crosses Jason's face, one of those blink-and-you-miss-it looks that Dick _doesn't_ miss but it's a near thing. 

Dick blinks and he thinks there’s still so much he doesn’t know about the man sitting across from him. If he tries hard enough, stays long enough, could he map out every expression Jason makes until they’re as familiar as roads that line the palms of his hands? Would Jason let him?

“You alright?” 

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. My hand slipped." Dick offers what he hopes is a bright, reassuring smile as he tries to tamp down the wildfire of blush that’s sweeping across his face. He clears his throat and adds, “The food is really good, Little Wing. Thank you.”

Jason eyes Dick plate, “If you let me know you’re coming over before you, y’know, actually show up, I could be more prepared. Maybe make something you like next time.”

Dick tells himself that it doesn't mean anything, that it was just Jason being friendly. _Next time._ The words ring in his ear like a symphony. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”

:::

Towering buildings of monochrome grey feel oppressive in the daylight but as Dick stands on a fire escape, he watches in wonder at how the city bursts into technicolour as the sun sets. Under the brightly coloured lights, it becomes a living, breathing thing and he loves how everything glows, how it feels just a little bit like magic. 

A disgruntled shout from behind him shatters his reverie. 

“What the fuck are you doing just standing outside?”

Dick turns and can't stop the smile that blooms across his face once he finds the source of the interruption. "Oh hey, Jay."

" _Oh hey, Jay?_ " The younger man echoes back irritability. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past minute, Dickface. What are you even doing out here?"

He shrugs his shoulders, a movement that does nothing to appease the man leaning out the window and glaring at him. “I was just thinking.”

“Didn’t know you did that.”

“I _have_ been known to, once or twice.” Dick pokes Jason’s nose teasingly, causing the man to scrunch his nose as he recoils.

“Christ, how long have you been outside? Your hands are cold as ice.”

“But my heart is nice and warm,” Dick replies with a cheeky grin that only grows as Jason levels him with a bland look. “Not that long, why? You worried about me, Jace?”

“Someone has to worry about you if you won’t. Get inside already.” 

Dick's smile becomes a little less cheeky and a little more tender as he crawls through the window. 

Jason retreats into the kitchen as he asks, "How'd you find me anyway?"

"The same way I always do."

"Which is...?" He turns and watches Dick with a calculating expression.

"Good ol' fashion detective work and a little luck."

He snorts, "A lot of luck, I wasn't even planning on coming back here today.”

Watching Jason as he fills a kettle with water and puts it on the stove, Dick feels the familiar warmth that radiates within his chest more and more often lately. It’s a warmth borne not only from his selfish desire to experience this side of Jason more, but from knowing that Jason still _has_ this side of himself. 

He had died. And then he came back so hurt, so angry. Seeing how gentle Jason can be feels like a dream Dick doesn’t deserve, a dream he’s always one step away from being woken up from.

There’s nothing he dreads more than waking up.

Jason hands him a mug of tea with a small smile that dazes him, and Dick trails behind in his wake as Jason makes his way into the other room.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

Dick gives a hum of acknowledgment as he carefully curls up onto the couch, mindful of his tea. Settled in, he finally takes note of his surroundings, taking in the shelves lined with worn paperbacks, the succulent that decorates the coffee table, the posters hanging upon the walls. The apartment is homey—warm and inviting. 

He suddenly feels self conscious, guilty. Like he got caught reading someone’s diary.

“Wait. Do you live here?” He anxiously calls after Jason.

Jason walks back into view, carrying a blanket. “What tipped you off?"

Dick gestures around uselessly as if Jason doesn't already know the answer.

“I—I should go," stuttering, he uncurls himself and sets his tea down next to the succulent. "I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Did you forget that I invited you in here?” Jason asks as he plops down next to him on the couch, throwing the blanket into Dick’s lap.

“Yeah, but... this is your _home._ ” There’s no way Jason actually wants him here, right? No matter how close they’ve gotten, he still hoards his secrets like a dragon and Dick is a thief caught in the act. There should be flames and teeth right about now and the lack of them leaves him off balance. “You’ve made a _violent_ point to not let anyone know where it was and I just barged in like an idiot.”

Dick begins to stand, pushing the blanket aside and preparing to flee, only to have an arm wrap around his waist and pull him back down. He stays stock still as the arm pulls him even closer and doesn’t let go. 

“Stay.”

He’s afraid to move, afraid to turn and see whatever expression rests on Jason’s face. Unwilling to find out it’s some kind of joke, some kind of misunderstanding.

“What are you doing, Jay?” He whispers.

“What do you want me to be doing?” 

Dick wants to laugh and he almost does, a nervous giggle that he swallows down just in time. He thinks it’s unfair for Jason to turn that question back on him when he hadn’t answered it himself. He supposes he probably deserves it anyway. 

Maybe he should just be honest—fully honest—like he had wanted to be before.

He risks a look at the dragon still holding him in his clutches. The grip is firm but it’s comforting and Dick briefly wonders if _he’s_ the treasure being hoarded, before pushing the thought away. Jason’s face is unguarded and Dick searches it for the assurance that he isn’t about to make a huge mistake.

He breathes in deep.

“I want you to kiss me,” he exhales.

Sea glass eyes blink in surprise and panic rips through him. Too honest. He had been too honest, hadn’t he? And now it’s—

Jason closes the gap between their lips in a rush and his mind stutters to a halt.

The kiss _burns_ and Dick wants nothing more than for these flames to consume him. They lick at his mouth, scorching his skin wherever Jason touches. It lasts forever and not nearly long enough. At some point, he's pulled atop strong thighs as his hands tangle into dark curls but Jason’s grip on him never loosens, as if Dick would vanish if it did.

Teeth tug lightly at his bottom lip before they finally break apart, and Dick opens his eyes to find the man below him watching him with an expression he can’t quite pinpoint. He wants to kiss it away, so he does, peppering soft kisses across Jason’s face.

Jason huffs a laugh and the expression melts away into one of embarrassment.

“If I had known you were going to kiss me like _that_ I would've told you sooner, you know.” 

:::

It becomes a thing that flourishes and blooms, carefully tended.

They kiss, they laugh, and learn how they fit together. They _still_ fight, because sometimes that's all they remember how to do, but it ends in whispered apologies now.

It becomes a thing it was never supposed to be, but then again, neither of them are any good at following the rules.

:::

Dick finds him on a rooftop, like he often does, and he sits down next to Jason in silence, like he always does. 

Jason is many things, but forthcoming about what's on his mind is not one of them. So when Dick finds him like this, he knows if he waits, Jason will find the words he wants eventually.

He peers at his boyfriend curiously but allows him this, to sit and just be.

Finally, Jason’s head tilts to the side, glancing toward him. He hesitates before words unfurl from his downturned lips, hazy like smoke, "Do you remember, Dickie?" 

"Remember what?"

Jason doesn't respond, his frown deepening as he searches Dick's face as if it holds the answer.

"How did you find me?" He asks suddenly, as if it's related to his first question, but Dick doesn't see how.

"The same way I always find you."

"But, _how?_ " 

"I don't know." His brows furrow and Dick realizes he really doesn't, now that he's thinking about it. He just knows that he thinks about Jason sometimes and feels him like a magnetic pull in his chest, knows that following the feeling leads straight to him. But that doesn't make any sense at all and it causes a low panic to bubble within him. "I just—I just do, Jace. Why does it matter?"

"Because it’s important, because you have to remember." Jason insists, eyes still searching for something Dick isn't sure they'll find. 

The sad, imploring look Jason is giving him brings the frustration resting just beneath his skin to the surface in a rush.

"Stop it!" Dick shouts, "Just... stop looking at me like that!" He waves an accusatory hand towards Jason's face that looks so completely heartbroken over something Dick can't even remember. "Stop looking at me like you're mourning something!" 

Pushing Jason away, he hastily gets to his feet and starts towards... anywhere but here. Dick wants this conversation—this argument—to end. He wants all the weird glances Jason gives him to stop already. 

He wants Jason to look at him like he's in love. 

And the thing is, he _does_ but it's a devastated love that chips away at Dick with every glance. 

There’s a feeling nagging at the back of his mind, a subtle insistence of something that lurks just beyond his reach. It tugs at the strands of vague memories Dick hasn't wanted to look at. He wants to keep ignoring them but it's too late, the damage has been done. Memories return in a flood and he crumples to the ground under the weight of it all. "You're mourning _me,_ " he whispers.

Jason kneels in front of him, pushing his chin up with gentle fingers until their eyes meet. "I didn't—"

"How long?" He interrupts.

"Dick..."

" _How long_ , Jason?" 

"Five months."

Five months?They've been—This whole thing, the _entirety_ of their current relationship only goes back four. Four months since the night he found him on that rooftop.

"This _whole_ time?" Dick hisses, regaining just enough of himself to flinch away from Jason’s touch. "Is this all some pretty lie? A joke to you?" 

"No! _No_ , Dickie, god no." Jason slumps as his hands fall loosely to his sides, his posture a parody of Dick's own, defeated and vulnerable. "I wanted this—wanted _you_ —for solong. I didn't want to see it. The signs were there, I just tried to ignore them." 

"What _signs_?"

"You always find me so easily, at first I thought you had a tracker planted on me somewhere," Jason huffs a small laugh. "But you never make _any_ noise when you move. You're always cold to the touch. When you get distracted you 'drop' things sometimes, let them phase right through you." 

All the times Jason had been startled by his arrival flick through Dick's mind like a slideshow, all the times he's dropped things and blamed it on being clumsy.

Jason takes a steadying breath before continuing, "I thought you didn't like my cooking. You never eat, just push food around and pretend."

All the weird comments, questions, and looks gain new context and overwhelm him. So focused on their growing relationship, Dick had missed them, waved them off as weird quirks and paranoia.

"I don't understand. How can you see me?" He asks quietly, reaching for Jason’s hand and taking it in his own. "How am I here, able to touch you?"

Jason shrugs, "Side effect of dying, or the pit, I'm not really sure. I've seen others before but... it's not like I make a habit out of hanging out with them."

"Why tell me now?" He wonders if he would have figured it out on his own, eventually. Or would he have continued to live in willful ignorance instead? "Why tell me at all?"

"You deserved to know."

He _did_ deserve to know, Dick acknowledges that, but right now he hates knowing. He doesn't know what it means, where it leaves him, or what to do with it.

"So what happens now?" He grips Jason's hand tighter, willing it to tether him down. "What happens to me? To us?" 

"I don't know, Dickie." Jason hesitantly pulls Dick into his arms, resting their foreheads together. "But we'll figure it out together."


End file.
